


Desire

by QueenDollopHead



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magic, Season/Series 03, sorcery!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenDollopHead/pseuds/QueenDollopHead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana has hatched a plan to disrupt the kingdom by causing conflict between the king and prince, using Merlin.</p><p>(Potential Merlin/Arthur in later chapters, right now it is just friendship/speculative)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Illness

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in Series 3 before Morgana learns that Uther is her father.
> 
> I have not actually decided yet if this is going to end with Merlin/Arthur, so I guess you can use your imagination until I decide. :)
> 
> Feel free to message me with any critiques/noticeable inconsistencies.

The restless king stood with his arms crossed as he watched his physician work on another patient. Admittedly, Uther rarely got to see Gaius work on anyone spare for his own son and most recently, Morgana. This, however, was one of those rare exceptions. The patient was none other than Uther’s own servant, who had served him since he was Arthur’s age. “How is he looking, Gaius?” he implored.

Gaius hardly looked up from his work. “Not too well, I’m afraid, sire.”

Frustrated, Uther ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. He paced over to his long time ally, standing before him so as to draw his gaze. “Will he recover?”

Gaius considered his answer, not wanting to draw the king’s famous temper. “It’s hard to say, sire. Surely not for a great deal of time,” he paused, and then continued. “I will certainly do all that I can, but I will not make you any promises.”

Uther turned his attention back to his sick servant; the years had not been kind to him. He was a year or so younger than the King of Camelot, but what he lacked in battle wounds and trauma, he made up for in years of hard labor, both before and during his service to Uther. It was not until now that Uther had noticed quite how old they had both become, and without Gaius having to say it, he realized that this man would no longer be in any condition to service him, even in the event that he does recover. “Thank you Gaius, I will leave you to your work now.”

Gaius acknowledged him with a curt nod of the head. “I appreciate it, sire.”

Crimson cape flowing behind him, Uther dismissed himself from the physician’s chambers. Thoughts of his ward’s disappearance and return coupled with thoughts of his faithful servant cluttering his mind, Uther was strangely unguarded when he felt a figure bounce of his chest, water spilling onto him in the process. He looked down on the smaller man, startled, yet not entirely surprised to see that it was Arthur’s clumsy excuse for a servant that had just collided with him. What was his name? Right, _Merlin_. Realizing his misfortune, the younger man’s face contorted in unrelenting fear and embarrassment, a light blush rising to his cheeks. Were he not so displeased with the situation, Uther would likely have been quite amused by his reaction.

“Sire!” exclaimed the young servant. He dropped to his knees, removing his scarf to mop up the spilled water. “I’m terribly sorry, I was in such a rush to get this water to Gaius that I didn’t bother to watch where I was going when I rounded the corner, and there you were!” he sputtered as he rose to his feet, occasionally chancing brief eye contact. When the king didn’t respond within a half of a second, Merlin continued. “I know, I’m an idiot, but please forgive me, sire, surely I did not mean to soak your clothing.” Scarf in hand, he reached towards the king, as if to dry some of his clothes, but retracted it upon realization of his own actions. His boundaries with the king were far different than the ones he had with Arthur, he could not simply _touch_ the king without explicit permission. The king watched on, eased and intrigued by Merlin’s actions as the boy finally gained a ghost of composure and stood squarely before him, eyes downcast. “Sorry.”

“Enough,” Merlin’s head snapped up at the lack of venom in Uther’s voice. The king sounded surprisingly level headed to him, and his confusion was etched hopelessly into his features. Uther felt no need to restrain his chuckle; he placed his hand on the shoulder of the terrified servant before him. Merlin’s gaze followed his hand before settling again on the eyes of the king. “You are not in trouble, I, too was not in the present state of mind, so you are not fully to blame,” Merlin’s face still seemed extensively perplexed, but it was his eyes that truly held Uther’s attention. The innocence behind them was unlike anything he had seen in years. Arthur had retained the fire throughout the years, but his innocence of mind vanished long ago when he returned from one of his first raids, and he could pinpoint that empty place in his eyes where his innocence was once reflected. “Get to helping Gaius, and I will make sure that Arthur is aware that you are occupied at the moment.”

Elated, Merlin’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Thank you, sire! I surely will,” he strode out from under the hand of the king and sped down the corridor towards Gaius’s office. Uther turned to watch the boy as he left, suddenly fascinated by his son’s manservant. He has always been loyal to Camelot and the young prince, even if he was not the brightest day of the year. When Merlin’s frame disappeared around a corner, the king resumed the walk to his chambers. His mind was no longer swirling with conflicting thoughts, he could only focus one thing; Merlin.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

A month passed without a sign of Uther’s servant improving. The king began to grow increasingly irate, clearly on edge. No one in the castle dared to speak about the king’s growing temper, as he now frequented long walks about the palace and being caught gossiping would hardly go over well with an exceptionally disturbed king.

One fine evening, after settling down to dine with his son and ward, the king dismissed their two servants to leave the three of them to discuss. Dinner conversation was light and relaxed as usual, they exchanged stories of battles and tournaments alike. They laughed and appeared to enjoy one another’s company, even if Morgana and Arthur occasionally insulted one another.

Midway through one of Uther’s anecdotes, one of the knights politely entered and requested for Arthur’s presence. “My apologies, my lord, but we have yet to coordinate our patrols for the evening.”

“Right, of course,” Arthur nodded his acknowledgement to the knight and then turned back to his companions. “With the losses from our last battle we have to adjust a minor detail or two before we train some of the new knights to fill their place,” he rose from his chair. “Father, Morgana, I fear I must tend to this.” Uther nodded in dismissal to his son, who bowed respectfully before departing with the knight. After the guards shut the door behind them, Uther turned to his ward shaking his head. This was becoming more and more of a habit, in fact more often than not, the two of them often ate alone as Arthur was beginning to take on a stronger leadership role.

Morgana laughed at the king’s expression and the two shared their mutual understanding as Uther chuckled with her. Quieting down, Morgana sighed contentedly and reached for his hand. “It truly is refreshing to hear you laugh more these days, my lord.”

The king smiled at her, grasping her hand and running his thumb over her knuckles. “Morgana, you needn’t worry about me, all is well.”

“Seriously, Uther, you haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I have been preoccupied, your return has brought me much joy but the search for your captors continues. I will not rest until they have been put to justice.”

Morgana withdrew her hand. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with your lack of a servant?”

Taken aback by her suggestion, Uther straightened in his seat. “My daily routine is far from normal, but such things are to be expected.”

She tilted her head knowingly, smirking at the king. “I am referring to your lack of a _body_ servant.” Uther swallowed hard, not at all expecting the lack of subtlety from his ward. He opened his mouth to deny her insinuation. “My lord, please. Arthur may be oblivious, but you must me give me more credit, it is clear that his duties extended beyond pouring drinks and cleaning armor.”

Defeated, Uther leaned back in his chair. “A man has many weaknesses, Morgana, his body being the greatest of them all.” Uther was content leaving it at that, not wishing to discuss the parameters of his sex life with who his ward by title, daughter by blood.

“You need to start fresh, my lord. Surely you can find another servant to-”

Uther dismissed the idea with a wave of his gloved hand. “No. In times like these I can’t just trust any young fool to be appointed as my servant,” he sighed and dropped his head into his hand, gripping the arm of his chair with the opposite. Surely beneath his glove his knuckles were turning white. “Anyone could have somehow brought about my servant’s illness just to force the king to search for a new one, can you imagine if an enemy knew just as much about me as you do?”

Morgana nodded in understanding, but her eyes betrayed a different emotion, a spark of interest at the king’s ironic choice of words. As always, her pleasure went unnoticed. “Well, what if you appointed someone already within the castle?”

Perplexed, Uther raised his gaze to meet hers. “What- or rather whom, are you suggesting?”

“Merlin,” Morgana smiled. “Surely you see how faithful he is to Arthur, he constantly goes above and beyond his duties.” Her fond words betrayed her true intentions, but acting had been something that she had mastered long before Uther took her in.

Uther shook his head. “ _No_ , he is Arthur’s servant. I have no intention of taking that away from him.”

“True, but you and Arthur have different intentions,” the raven haired ward explained. “Arthur has no interest in him in that fashion, he just likes having someone around to play live bait and clean up his stuff.”

The king was more than skeptical. “And you don’t expect he’d mind?”

“He lends out his servant to his knights and guests all the time. While he does not partake in such activities, surely he must be aware that they happen.” Morgana reached once more for Uther’s hand. “Besides, it is not like he has to know. Perhaps it’s even better that way, sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

The laughter that fills the room is genuine, and Uther even has to wipe a happy tear from his cheek before clasping Morgana’s hand once more. “You live by that, don’t you Morgana?” he sighs and beams fondly at the girl. “Thank you, I will certainly consider your suggestion. You have some excellent points.”

Morgana leaned in, locking her eyes with Uther’s. “Your happiness, my lord, is all I seek.” Uther gave her hand a squeeze and kissed her on the forehead before turning his attention back to his wine. Morgana leaned back into her seat, very much content with how her plan was unraveling thus far.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you?” Merlin asked as he packed his master’s clothing into a bag.

Arthur sighed as he closed the door to his wardrobe, turning to face his large eared servant. “You know, Merlin, I _am_ capable of going places without you,” quipped the young prince. He snagged his jacket from the back of his chair and paced to window. Behind the safety of Arthur’s back, Merlin rolled his eyes; of course the prat had no idea just how much Merlin had to do with his safety. Still, he came up behind him to help guide his garment onto his broad shoulders. “Besides, your place is here with Gaius helping him look after my father’s servant. I’ll only be a few days.”

“I suppose.”

“Your concern is charming, really, but it is just a border check and a visit to a few of the outlying villages,” Arthur turned to face him. “Even an idiot like you could handle that without getting hurt. In the meantime,” he clapped his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, flashing a cocky grin. “You won’t have to worry about being lonely; you’ll have my father and the lady Morgana to boss you around in my absence.”

“Gee, great,” Merlin drawled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “But at least they’re not as hopelessly sloppy as you are.”

“In fact,” Arthur continued, clearly not even listening to Merlin anymore. “It was Morgana who convinced me to give you a break from traveling with me, so you have her to thank.”

Merlin’s head snapped up at these words, anything that’s Morgana’s idea surely is not good as it seems. “Well that’s… very nice of her,” he concluded hesitantly.

“Indeed,” the prince nodded. “Now if you’re done standing around make yourself useful and prepare my horse. I depart in ten.” With that, Merlin exited his chambers, worried about just what Morgana had planned for him.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Like so many nights before, Morgana dismissed Guinevere for the evening and then prepared herself for her midnight walk. She donned her flowing cloak and pulled the hood over head. She didn’t care about checking the hallway before she left, because she had realized that she can either sweet talk her way out of any scenario or simply kill whoever confronted her. Silence echoed behind her as she left the palace unnoticed and easily swept past the guards into the dead of night. It wasn’t long before her feet carried her to a clearing in the forest, their designated meeting place for the evening.

“What news have you brought me, sister?”

Morgana spun around to meet Morgause’s gaze. “Excellent news, Arthur is away and he has left his manservant behind.”

“I hardly see how this is good news,” Morgause frowned. “It’s that boy who is _constantly_ getting in our way.”

“Not for long,” Morgana spoke, grinning wickedly.

Morgause took an eager step towards her, expression changing from displeased to very interested. “Have you hatched a plan of your own?”

“Let’s just say that the illness of Uther’s servant is no coincidence,” she began. “And he’s not looking well to recover,” Morgana briefly feigned sadness before smirking once again. “Uther, above all, is a man. He won’t last long without such services.”

Morgause placed her hands on Morgana’s shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “You are growing stronger every day sister… I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course! Remember, I am his precious ward!” she placed a hand on her chest, straightening herself with the act of delicacy and esteem. “All I had to do is plant an idea in his head and he does all the watering for himself, just wait, I’m sure Uther’s with Merlin as we speak…”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The king sat in his chambers, head rested on his hands as he stared idly at the paperwork before him. His son had departed not more than six hours ago, and yet all he could think about was his return in a few days’ time. He was broken away from his thoughts by a knock at his door. “Who is it?” he inquired instinctively.

“You summoned for me, sire?” came Merlin’s unmistakable voice through the hard wood of his chamber door. Uther froze. Yes… he had summoned the boy, his son’s own servant, for his own recreational purposes.

“Enter,” he called back after a noticeable delay. The king sprang to his feet, assuming his regal posture and signature look of disinterest. The pale servant staggered in a moment later, looking worn and battered, no doubt from taking orders from his son all day and resuming his other responsibilities in his absence. A soft sheen of sweat graced his furrowed brow. His face begged all the questions he dared not ask; ‘Why did you call _me_ in the middle of the _evening_?’ the king swallowed the answer to his unasked question, watching as the boy quietly shut the door and approached him, awaiting his next orders.

The silence seemed to swallow him as Uther’s mind ran rampant once more. Merlin’s look of bewilderment only grew with each passing second. “Sire?” he inquired carefully. The king’s eyes betrayed their destination, he looked as though he were looking right through the thin boy. He tilted his head as he examined Uther’s face, before waving a hand in front of it, wondering if his trance had anything to do with magic.

Instantly Uther sprang alive, he reached up and grabbed the wrist attached to the hand that entered his personal space. Merlin’s gaze fell from his face down to his own wrist enclosed by his king’s hand. Eyes wild, Uther squeezed his bony wrist, twisting his arm and watching Merlin’s face contort in pain.

Merlin lowered himself to the ground trying to go with the angle with which the king twisted his limb. He clenched his eyes shut and managed to keep his verbal expression of pain to soft whimpers and groans. All the while he felt Uther’s eyes on his face, he chanced opening his eyes to look at the king and gasped when he saw his expression. It was almost animalistic; the wideness of his pupils, his tight clenched jaw, and the profound vein in his forehead.

A panicked heart beat thudded beneath Uther’s vice-grip on Merlin’s wrist. Desperate, terrified eyes turned up to meet his, and suddenly it wasn’t Merlin staring up at him from below, but one of the fearful faces that now haunts the worst of his nightmares. Stunned, he released the servant’s wrist and watched as he spilled onto the floor.

The king turned to retreat to his bed, refusing to look at the boy desperately massaging his wrist on the cold, hard ground. “Dismissed,” he commanded, taking off his boots at the bedside. He heard the young man scamper to his feet before clumsily clambering over to and out the door. Uther turned just in time to see the door slam shut, leaving behind the weak echo of feet running down the hall away from his chambers.

The king pinched bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Climbing into bed, Uther recalled everything that crossed his mind in the last hour alone, and groaned in frustration. He went to bed conflicted and immensely irritated, images of a particular servant torturing his fitful slumber.


	2. Impatience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is away, and Merlin can never seem to sense when his own well-being is in danger.

Morgana moaned softly as a she felt sunlight cast upon her face. Curiously, her eyes fluttered open, squinting at first, then widening as they adjusted to the bright room. Her gaze fell upon her faithful servant who preoccupied herself with tying back the curtains. Gwen later met her gaze whit a fond smile and Morgana forced herself to return the gesture. “Morning, my lady,” she spoke, coming to stand by her bedside. “I see you slept well?”

“Yes… I did, actually,” she rose out of the bed until she was sitting up on the side. Even though she was complete alert, her wrinkled brow expressed her morning confusion. “Gwen what time is it?”

The young maid returned to her services as she spoke. “About eleven, my lady,” she busied herself by going to Morgana’s wardrobe and sorting through her clothing.

Morgana nodded to herself, she knew that the king did not have any visitors or any council meetings, so it made sense the Gwen allowed her to sleep in, it was just amazing that her dreams _allowed_ her to sleep in. Even with the bracelet Morgause gave her, she usually woke up much earlier than needed and occasionally some prophecies slipped through. A slight discomfort in her stomach dispelled her thoughts. “Gwen, when you’re done can you fetch me my-” A loud crash sounded in the hall, causing the two females to jump. Yelling and the sound of glass shattering followed shortly after. “…breakfast,” Morgana paced over to her chamber door and peered into the hallway, but there was nothing in her immediate line of vision despite the noise that persisted. “What’s going on?” she asked quietly.

Gwen sighed as she laid out the dress she picked out for Morgana, shaking her head. “The king is one of moods… again,” Morgana frowned. It seemed as though the king did not follow through on her advising. She picked up the dress from the table and disappeared behind the changing screen.

“Well,” she called, shuffling behind the screen. “I guess I’ll just have to go talk to him.”

“Are you sure? You know how bad his temper is...” Morgana emerged and paced over to her vanity, taking a seat as she listened only half-heartedly to Gwen. Gwen followed and began to brush her hair. Morgana fought to appear calm, but her plan was in jeopardy and she could not waste any time, just in case Arthur returned earlier than expected. Gwen continued. “He’s been even worse with his servant sick.”

“I’d be equally as lost without you, Gwen,” Morgana forged a caring smile at her through their reflections in the mirror. “But you mustn’t worry about me, I’m his ward, he would never hurt me.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Shortly after she dismissed Gwen, Morgana strode into the hallway, intent on finding Uther before the situation slipped out of her grasp. She walked with much haste as she navigated the halls that housed her for the greater part of her life, though she felt far from home. A grin spread across her soft features when the object of her plan came into view, Merlin. He was walking towards her at a similar pace, and he eyed her with great suspicion. Normally, she’d stop and pester him, remind him of all the power that she held over him, but now was not the time for words… at least not with him. She brushed past him, leaving him alone to stare at her in suspicion as she continued on.

It wasn’t long before she found herself in front of the two, heavily guarded double doors. She gave them a look of endearment like she had millions of times before, in response they passed her a concerned glance, likely because of the shouting coming from inside the door, but nonetheless opened the doors for her anyways.

All at once Uther quieted when Morgana came into view. He ordered out the “useless” servants and stubborn knights before managing a sympathetic smile for his ward. “Morgana, please, come in…. sit,” he gestured at the chair next to him. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“No, thank you,” she pulled the chair out from the table sat down. “Uther… I’m worried about you,” she began. The king sighed and leaned back in his chair, clearly this was not the conversation he was hoping to have, but Morgana persisted. “You really do need to unwind… seeing you like this, well, it hurts me,”

“I called him into my chambers last night,” he spoke softly, defending himself.

“Camelot needs a king who is calm and attentive,” she continued. “And right now, you’re so uptight that you can’t think of anything else… can you?”

Uther let the words sink in before responding. “No,” he admitted. Only with Morgana could he show such weakness, could he let his anger simmer down to its deeper roots. “You’re right, I’ll try again later today,” Uther dismissed the conversation by turning back to the breakfast spread before him. Morgana glowed; Uther believed it was with admiration and well wishes for her king.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The way Merlin dug at his soup, one would think that there was something buried within it. Spoonful after spoonful was scooped up only to be mixed back into the bowl. It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t like what Gaius prepared for lunch, but he just couldn’t focus on eating when his mind was elsewhere.

“Don’t worry Merlin,” Gaius’ voice rang from what seemed to be miles away, but when Merlin rose his head up to the source of the noise, he found his mentor sitting across the table from him. “Arthur will be back in a few days, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Dropping his spoon into the bowl, Merlin shook his head in disagreement. “It’s not about Arthur,” he clarified. Gaius’s forehead wrinkled in question. “I believe Morgana’s up to something.”

“Oh I wouldn’t doubt it,” Gaius agreed. “But there’s hardly anything you can do, Merlin. She’s the king’s ward, and even if Arthur was here you _know_ he’d never believe you.”

Unable to sit still any longer, Merlin pushed away from the table and began to pace about the room. “I know, I know,” he grumbled in frustration. Feeling Gaius’ gaze on him, he turned expectantly. “Maybe I should go keep an eye on her,”

“No, Merlin!” Gaius stood abruptly, causing the bench he sat on to screech on the floor. “If she thinks you’re watching her that will just put you in that much more danger,” the older man paced over to him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “The day is still young, you should-” the hollow knock at the door interrupted him. “Come in,” Gaius called, turning away from the boy.

“The king requests your presence in his chambers,” spoke the guard as he entered the room.

“Sure,” Gaius replied. “Just allow me a moment to gather my supplies,”

“Actually,” the guard interjected. “The king wishes to see the boy.”

“Me?” Merlin piped, exchanging a perplexed gaze with his mentor. “Again?” After some very awkward encounters over the past few days, Merlin could not possibly imagine why Uther would want to see him.

The guard nodded. “He wants Gaius to continue looking after his patient, so he does not wish to distract him.”

Gaius nodded in understanding, Merlin deciding to shake off any sense of irregularity that bubbled in his chest. “Now Merlin, in addition to the medicine, I’ve prepared a salve for his battle wound to be applied monthly. Today is that day, so I ask that you take it with you as well.” Merlin nodded understanding as he grabbed the usual medicine Gaius had prepared and waited to be handed the salve. When Gaius passed it to him, he leaned in close and whispered: “Remember what we talked about Merlin,” he advised with a nod of the head. Merlin flashed a smile showing that he understood and then left the room, leaving Gaius behind with the ill servant and two full bowls of soup.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

This time when Merlin arrived at Uther’s door, he did not need to knock- the guard opened the door for him and showed him in. Once Merlin was inside, the guard closed the door and left, heavy footfalls sounding down away from the door. Uther was sitting on his bed, shirt laid out beside him. He waved Merlin over and the young servant presented the two objects to him.

Uther took the bottle of medicine from his hand and placed it on the bedside table, leaving Merlin to look foolish with the outstretched object in his other hand. “Go on, now,” Uther urged, remaining still on his bed. The confusion that spread across Merlin’s face was unmistakable.

Surely Uther was intending to dismiss him, but Gaius’s orders were clear. “Sire, Gaius said you needed this for your wound,” Merlin tried, thrusting the salve forward.

“Yes, and I would like it any day now,” the king leveled impatiently. Still he made no move to even reach for the salve. “Well!?” he snapped when Merlin continued to do nothing.

Realization hit him like a brick, of course the king was too high and mighty to apply the salve to himself. He place the jar onto the table and opened it before dipping three fingers into the creamy substance. Unbeknownst to him, Uther watched him in anticipation, carefully studying each of his movements.

When Merlin first place the salve directly to the scarred area, Uther gasped and shivered under his touch, Merlin assumed it was the suddenness of the cold touch that shocked him, and continued to rub the salve into his skin. He watched as the king’s breaths grew deeper and deeper, eventually his eyes fell closed as Merlin applying the treatment. Uther’s face looked pained, betraying the gratified groan that sprang from his chest. Merlin marveled at the fact that the king’s old battle wound continued to plague him even as cool salve relaxed his muscles.

Once Merlin seemed to have exhausted the initial amount, he stepped away from Uther and reopened the jar to fetch more of the salve. At the movement, Uther’s eyes snapped open. “That’s enough for now,” Uther commanded, voice wavering slightly. When Merlin turned to face him, he was taken aback by the sight of the same wild-eyed gaze he had seen just the day before. “Go!” the king snapped, voice noticeably louder and unsteady.

Without wasting another second, Merlin gathered the jar and his other belongings. He bowed respectfully out of habit – though certainly a poorly executed habit around Arthur –  before swiftly showing himself out.

It wasn’t long until he reached his destination, Gaius’ quarters. He entered the physician’s room and saw that he was bent over… some concoction or other. “What took you so long, Merlin?” he asked upon hearing the door close.

“I had to tend to Uther remember?” Merlin paced over the table Gaius was standing at and moved to place down the jar of salve when it slipped from his hands. His eyes glowed and the object froze, suspended in the air, before it could ever hit the ground.

Gaius visibly relaxed once Merlin returned the object to the table, then shook his head disapprovingly as he turned back to his work. “You really should be more careful, Merlin,” the older man advised.

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered sarcastically, walking over to the door to his bedroom. “My hands are just a little slippery from rubbing salve on Uther’s royal shoulder,” he spat the last part, emphasizing just how ludicrous it was in his opinion.

Gaius looked up once more, this time smiling proudly at his apprentice. “Well, that was very nice of you,” Gaius complimented. “He normally takes care of it for himself, but it was nice of you to volunteer seeing how stressed he is lately.”

Merlin stared at Gaius long after his mentor had occupied himself with something else. “Right… thanks,” he spoke slowly, suspiciously. Silently, he went into his room and sat down on the bed. He planned to get a nap in before he was needed for his evening duties, the recent strangeness within the castle having exhausted him.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Morgana smiled when Uther exited his chambers; she had seen Merlin exit moments before, and by his hasty exit, she was sure that she had finally been successful. She followed him down the corridor, adjusting her pace so that she could catch up and then fall into stride with him. “How do you feel, my lord?” she asked as they rounded the corner.

“Not now, Morgana,” Uther grumbled; he quickened his gait. His rigid posture and gruff voice indicated that he, once again, was unsuccessful. Morgana stopped in her tracks, watching the king grow smaller and smaller as he out-strode her. This was getting ridiculous, Uther showed unyielding conviction when it came to persecuting sorcerers, but for some reason he couldn’t commit to satisfying his need in bedding a servant. It was finally clear to her that Uther was unreliable, if not incapable of taking the step necessary to complete her plan. Luckily, she knew someone who could help him.

Sneaking out Camelot during daylight was not her preference, but waiting until the dark of evening and wasting time did not bode well with her. A charming smile here and a convincing threat to run to Uther with a tale of harassment there and she was through the gates of Camelot, alone, in record time. No matter the time of the day, Morgause seemed to be ready and willing to meet Morgana at the drop of pin. Evidently, Morgana needn’t even signal the other woman, for as she reached a point in the forest far enough from the kingdom’s walls, Morgause appeared in her peripheral vision. She turned to face her, knowing full well that Morgause understood that the daylight meetings were always of great importance.

“Uther is weaker than I expected,” Morgana spat, skipping the usual greetings. She grew increasingly frustrated by the moment. “He has yet to follow through on his intentions, and I don’t plan to wait around until he does. We have no idea of when Arthur will return, and when he does it will be nearly impossible to get Uther to act.”

Morgause nodded at the explanation, but did not show any signs of distress. “I believe I have just the thing we need,” she assured, reaching for something beneath her cloak. She withdrew her fist and held out it before Morgana, opening her fingers to reveal an ornate ring with a large, emerald colored jewel set into it. “This little trinket enchants its wearer, granting them the strength and resolve to achieve whatever they desire. The High Priestesses of The Old Religion often used such rings to weaken their enemies, as the powerful influence of the ring bypasses any moral or intrinsic values. The wearer becomes a slave to their passions, and is unable to rest until their wish is fulfilled.”

Morgana grinned wickedly at the description. She eagerly clasped Morgause’s hand in her own and whispered excitedly to her. “The night will soon be upon us, and by dawn Camelot’s destruction will have begun.”

“Go sister,” Morgause urged, placing her opposite hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “I will eagerly await your next visit and the news you will bring,” she returned her look of delight and dropped her hand from her shoulder. Morgana nodded and released her, taking the ring with her. She took one last look at the magical object before turning back towards Camelot.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Evening had arrived at last; it was supper time for the royals of the castle. The cooks had slaved since early in the afternoon, all to have most of their food untouched by their king. Uther cradled his heavy head in his palm, elbow propped up on the table before him. The spread looked fantastic, as usual, but Uther was preoccupied beyond the scope of the room. He didn’t look up as the double doors swung open, letting in the sound of light footsteps that grew louder as they neared. A soft clearing of the throat finally drew Uther’s gaze upward, meeting the concerned expression of his dear ward. With his free hand, he motioned to the chair beside him at the table.

The apparent habitualness of the current scenario allowed them to communicate without words, and assume the others actions before they performed them. Out of respect, and well… habit, they ignored the redundancy of the setting. But, without being told, Uther knew that Morgana was going to express her worry for him, he would deny it, and she would persist and convince him to seek a solution. This was a recurrent theme over the years, and had become particularly familiar over the past month, especially this past week.

“Uther, you are not well,” she began, introducing the first line of the scene. “I thought you said you were going to do something about this,” she indicated his posture and the untouched food in front of him. Uther in turn moved to offer her some of the food, but Morgana would hear none of it.

Resigning, Uther sighed his frustration and leaned back in his chair. “Look Morgana, I can’t expect you to understand,” he argued.

“But I do,” Morgana persisted, smiling comfortingly. “Believe me, I get it. I promise I didn’t come to argue with you.”

Interest peaked, Uther straightened in his chair, squaring his chest to his eager ward. This wasn’t part of the script, Morgana almost always sought to argue, if not with Arthur then with him. “Why did you come?” he inquired.

“To offer you this,” Uther’s hand extended expectantly toward her, palm facing upward. Morgana took a hold of it and turned it so that his palm now faced the floor. With her other hand, she slipped a ring onto his finger. After completing the action, she placed the now free hand on top of his and sought out his eyes. “A token of my sincerest apology, you need time, and I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she explained, willing her best display of regret.

Uther smiled at the unexpected gesture. “Thank you, Morgana,” he spoke. “You are welcome to stay with me for dinner,” he, predictably, suggested. Morgana shook her head, but returned his smile.

“No need, sire, I am sated with the knowledge that you will soon feel better,” she mentally cheered the brilliant acting behind her lie before releasing her king’s hand and rising to leave. “In fact, I think I’ll turn in early tonight. Good night, my lord,” she bowed her head and left without another word.

Appetite rekindled, Uther reached for the food in front of him and indulged himself. All the while, images of a particular pale, young servant occupied his mind. This time, he felt no apprehension towards these visions, but instead received them with a sense of prophecy. Morgana was very thoughtful and correct on many accounts, but she was wrong in one very specific aspect of her apology; he needed no more time, tonight would be the night.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thunderous knocking awoke the warlock from his near slumber. He had only too recently settled into his bed from his extended evening of serving Uther and helping Gaius, who evidently, was not in the room– the banging persisted. He begrudgingly rolled out from the comfort of his bed, ducked out of his room and shuffled to open the door. The guard in front of him spoke immediately. “The king requests your presence in his chambers,” he echoed his orders like a parrot, as every guard did each time a member of the royal household asked something of them. Their variety of phrases was extremely limited, and Merlin entertained the idea that it was because they truly had no idea how to phrase such simple sentences differently. He rubbed at his eye with one hand, the other preventing the door from slamming in the guard’s face.

“Gaius isn’t here,” Merlin muttered, moving to close the door. The guard stopped him, placing a hand on the door to hold it open.

“Thankfully, the request wasn’t for Gaius,” the guard grinned, showing a unique human side to his character. Merlin groaned at the realization that he could not yet go to sleep. ‘ _The king sure is needy these days,’_ he thought. He told the guard to wait a moment before he could depart with him. Unlike when he was catering to Arthur, Merlin couldn’t get away with looking half put together the way he did now. He briefly tidied himself and made his way about the castle with the guard.

When they finally reached the king’s chambers, the guard knocked on the door and spoke. “My lord, I have brought you Merlin,” he called.

“Send him in,” came the king’s gruff reply. The guard opened the door and ushered Merlin in before shutting it, leaving himself out in the hallway. His footsteps shortly echoed away.

Merlin stood before the king, who sat at the ornate table in his room with perfect posture. Under his scrutiny, Merlin desperately tried to look as though he weren’t half asleep. “You sent for me, sire?”

Uther rose from where he sat and walked past the servant. “I did,” he confirmed. Merlin inspected his him as he walked by; considering the late hour, it was surprising that Uther was still sporting his traditional robes, including his crown. Perhaps that was why he was summoned. Uther paid him no attention as he grabbed something from his bedside table. Merlin restrained from questioning his purpose out of dutiful respect. He turned his attention forward once more as the king passed him again, this time moving behind him. “I require your more… personal, services this evening,” the king clarified. From behind him, Merlin heard the distinct -click- of the chamber door locking. He spun around so that he was now facing the king’s royal back.

“Sire?” he inquired, several questions spun into that single word. Slowly, the king turned around to examine him as he had done to Uther not moments before, only this inspection was different. Merlin had looked at him with curiosity, but Uther... Uther’s stare was strictly predatory.

“You will join me in my bed this evening,” he declared. Merlin’s heart sank, face flushing in embarrassment. Certainly, the king couldn’t mean what he thought he did. And yet, there was no other explanation.

Unless of course the king was secretly into cuddling, which he doubted.

Once the initial shock of the insinuation wore off, Merlin shook the thought from his head. “I don’t think that would be for the best, my lord,” Merlin muttered quietly, treading carefully. He fixed his gaze on the floor, decidedly not making eye contact with the king. After a long silence began to settle in the room, Merlin thought that perhaps Uther didn’t hear him. He chanced a glance up at him and immediately regretted ever entering the room. Uther was _angry_ , his hands were curled into tight fists, eyebrows knitted into a nasty grimace. Merlin could practically _hear_ the heat radiating off of him.

“Are you refusing me?” he asked, voice chillingly smooth. Merlin couldn’t mistake the warning within the simple question.

“I…” Merlin hesitated, once again caught in the clutches of the king’s rage. Normally it was because Arthur appointed him to cover his royal arse, but this time he had no one but himself to blame for angering the king. “Yes,” he replied, quickly and quietly.

Uther’s expression contorted further. He stepped toward the fearful servant who was rooted to his spot in terror. Uther drew his arm backward and then forcefully brought his open palm down on the pale face of the young man before him. Merlin stumbled to the side from the power of strike but didn’t fall as Uther caught him by the arm and dragged him forward so that their chest were only inches apart.

Merlin could feel the king’s hot breath on his face as his hand constricted tightly around his bicep. “I am your king, and you will do as I say,” he bellowed. Merlin trembled in his grasp but couldn’t fathom a method of escape, the king was old, yes, but he was still much stronger than him, especially since using his magic was out of the question. “Now, _servant_ ,” he spat. “Disrobe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the wonderful response to Chapter 1, I hope subsequent chapters meet and exceed your expectations :)


	3. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur returns, and Merlin must hide the truth about what happened to him, or face the consequences.

“Dismissed,” came a gruff voice from far behind him. By now, Uther had already removed any of the clothing that remained after their recent act, including his shoes, and had crawled into bed. Merlin, bent over the hard wood table in the middle of the room, clenched his fists tighter around the edge of the offending surface. It took a moment to peel himself off the table; another two to find his balance. He fought the urge to scream each time he had to bend down to pick up an article of his clothing, not that his raw throat could accommodate such an act. His body ached, his skin burned, and any place that didn’t hurt simply lacked sensation.

After he grappled his clothing on, he dashed out of the king’s chambers and down to his own room. He dared not look at the king on his way out, nor could he even think about cautiously avoiding others as he darted about the castle with one hand holding his trousers in place. Finally reaching his destination, he scurried inside and slammed the door closed shut. Gaius’ absence was anticipated, but upon realization, he couldn’t help the opposing tides of relief and disappointment that washed over him. On one hand, he did not have to worry his mentor or struggle to explain the trauma he experienced; on the other hand, he was completely alone.

Adrenaline pumped through him as his heart thudded in his ears. He crossed the physician’s quarters before ducking into his private space. Once inside he threw his back against the door and stared into the plain emptiness that was his room. The stark silence of the room contrasted the chaotic storm that stirred in his head. He spied a small pail by the side of his bed that was filled with water and suddenly felt filthier than he has been in his entire life. He grabbed the wash cloth that sat on the edge of it and dipped it in the water. Clenching his eyes shut, he pushed his trousers down and vigorously scrubbed the sore area between his legs, fighting to keep his breathing steady all the while. Any place he felt the weight of Uther’s hands on him was subsequently rubbed raw.

Once the act was completed, he pulled his trousers back up and let the soaked cloth fall to the floor where he stood. With the back of his hand he wiped at the tears that managed to slip through his previously closed eyelids, sniffling as his breath slowly evened out. Mind still spinning, Merlin staggered backward until his back hit the door. The surprise contact knocked the wind out of him, and he subsequently slid down the door until he was curled up into himself on the floor. With shaky hands he reached up to cradle the back of his head and slowly began to quiver with sobs.

An eternity seemed to pass as Merlin sat on the floor, his tears dried in their tracks on his face. Having not even realized he fell asleep, Merlin jolted awake from a nightmare not too different from the one he now lived in. Taking a quick look around, he noted that it was still dark out, meaning Merlin had the entire rest of the evening to lie awake, tortured by all too recent events. Had he not been so motivated by the fear of his mentor discovering him, a crumpled mess, on the floor, Merlin might not have been so eager to crawl into bed. His abused body screamed at his groggy mind as he moved, but still Merlin managed to pull himself up off the floor and into his bed. He drew the covers up to his chin, willing, hoping that the next time he woke, the nightmare wouldn’t follow him into the day.

**\---**

The morning came without his permission. Somehow, his exhaustion finally caught up to him late that night, and as such he was roused by cheers from outside the castle and the blindingly bright sun shining into his room. Everything around him seemed to be sickeningly cheery, as if the day itself was mocking his misery. Merlin turned over so that his back faced the intruding light source. He had no interest in whatever was causing the commotion outside, nor did he have any intent of getting out of bed.

The sounds outside died down, only to be replaced by clamor of increased activity within the castle. He heard the door to the physician’s chambers close, followed by the gentle tread of his mentor’s footsteps. A knocking sound reached his ears, and it took him a moment to register that the knocking was on _his_ door. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to say; telling his mentor to leave would only start an argument that he wasn’t prepared to fight, but he also _really_ didn’t feel up to talking to anyone. The decision was taken out of his hands when Gaius entered after a brief silence. “Merlin, where were you? Didn’t you hear the morning bell?”

“Not really,” Merlin answered honestly, he had yet to actually turn towards him.

“Merlin!” Gaius reprimanded. “You have duties as a servant; being there for your master’s return is one of them!”

Is that why everyone was so excited this morning? “Arthur?”

“ _Mer_ lin _!_ ” Came a familiar voice from outside the room. Arthur barged his way in through the first door and the next instant he was throwing open the second one. Merlin jumped at the sound and turned to face the prince. Arthur stood beside Gaius, arms crossed firmly over his chest. Studying him, he arched an eyebrow at the servant. “I was _going_ to ask you what the hell you’ve been doing, but that much is obvious by looking at you,”

Trying to come up with a lie for himself, Merlin strained to sit up in bed. “I-”

“…had a long evening at the tavern, clearly,” Arthur nodded. Leave it to Arthur to jump straight to conclusions, although this time, he felt fortunate for not having to come up with an excuse himself. “Don’t worry, Merlin,” he continued, moving to stand at the bed beside Merlin. He leaned in close, smiling with his characteristic, smug prattiness. “You can sober up while you muck out the stables and polish my armor!” he emphasized his point by patting him on the cheek, and with a twirl of his crimson cape, Arthur was out the door.

Gaius laughed at Merlin’s misfortune, just as he always did, Arthur was certainly not very creative with his theories. He departed not long after, likely having his own duties to attend to. With a hiss of pain, Merlin slid out of bed and resolved to treat today like any other.

\---

The arrival of the prince could not have been timed better. Morgana had witnessed Merlin’s hasty departure from the king’s chambers the evening before, and knew that her plan was underway. Not even the smallest prophecy could plague her slumber that night. When the castle stirred early in the morning, and word of Arthur’s arrival spread like wildfire, Morgana was the first to greet him, Uther himself following closely behind. When Arthur dismounted his horse and handed it off to the nearest stable-hand, he approached the duo. After receiving his warm welcome, he turned away from his father and Morgana, searching his immediate surroundings. “Where’s Merlin?” he inquired, facing them once more.

Morgana had to force down a wicked grin at his innocently oblivious question. “I’m not sure, I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon,” she lied seamlessly. Uther did not respond.

Displeased with her response, Arthur shook his head, not entirely surprised. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself. Without another word, Arthur promptly sped up the stairs, likely going to search for his missing servant.

After watching him disappear into the castle, Morgana turned to face the king. “Maybe now that Arthur’s back, you’ll be in higher spirits,” she suggested, decidedly letting Uther assume that she suspected nothing.

Uther nodded, a small smile curling his lips. “Perhaps,” he agreed. The emerald gem on his ring sparkled in the bright of the sun as Uther, too, began to ascend the stairs to the grand castle. Today, she thought, was going to be a great day.

\---

Pretending he didn’t have magic was something he was accustomed to. In fact, it was second nature to him by now. He had no issue concealing this huge secret for the past few years. It was acting as if he was his “normal” self that he often struggled with. Arthur, as oblivious as we was, often took note of the occasions when Merlin just wasn’t himself. Every so often, Arthur succeeded at coaxing a confession out of him, but this time, he knew the certain danger of telling Arthur about his night with the king, his _father_.

First off, if he told Arthur, there is a strong possibly that he would storm off to talk to Uther himself. If Uther was so offended, he could have Merlin executed, and Arthur imprisoned for questioning him. Certainly Uther would never admit to his shortcomings, as tradition mandated. Regardless of Uther’s ultimate decision, the two would almost definitely fight, and with danger seeming to creep upon Camelot more and more each day, the last thing they needed was for word to spread that the kingdom was weakening from within.

Chances are, Arthur would never look at Merlin the same. The two had grown to be good friends over the years, whether Arthur chose to admit it or not, but how would Arthur be able to stay friends with someone his father _bedded_? Even if it was against his will. No, it was Merlin’s job to protect Arthur, his _destiny_ , but he couldn’t do that if Arthur couldn’t stand to be around him.

Surely, everything he’d worked for would be ruined. But, nothing hurt worse than the sinking feeling resulting from the realization that Arthur might not even _believe_ him. He might not accept that his father truly did this, or perhaps Arthur would fall in favor of believing that Merlin chose to go to bed with him.

As alone as he felt, Merlin knew he couldn’t tell Arthur, couldn’t tell anyone for that matter. People talk, gossip spreads like wildfire in Camelot, and the last thing he needed was for someone to spread word to the king or to Arthur. Furthermore, telling someone meant _talking_ about it, about what happened to him. He’d be forced to face questions and deal with sympathy and looks of pity. He knew he couldn’t handle that, and so, the acting began.

Today, Arthur had given him the capability to claim that he was spent from his night at the tavern. This was his trial period to gauge how the prince would react to him.

Having an excuse for his behavior took care of one problem, but the other was not so easily tackled. Every single movement he made caused him a great deal of pain. How could he prevent from screaming when each time he had to reach up for something or bend down he felt as if he were going to tear in two? With his duties as a servant being physical in nature, Merlin was at a severe disadvantage for attempting to act “normal”.

Thankfully, he could depend on Arthur being his typical self. For having only been back for three hours, he made an impressive mess of his chambers. His chainmail, satchel, cape, sword, and other objects from his journey were strewn about the room. Merlin sighed at the sight, trying to figure out where to start first.

“It’s all your fault, you know,” came Arthur’s voice from behind him. Merlin tensed instantly, consumed with terror. How on Earth did Arthur find out so soon? And now he was _blaming_ him! Merlin spun around, his defense falling from his lips.

“How is it my fault?” he demanded. Arthur, who must have just finished a council meeting, was leaning against the door frame with an accusatory expression.

Arthur pushed himself off and walked past Merlin. “If you had just been punctual, I wouldn’t have had to get myself ready for the council meeting, and you wouldn’t be groaning about your duties,” he explained. The prince moved over to where his cape lay, bending over to pick it up and tossing it at his servant, who barely turned in time to catch it.

Merlin fisted his hands in the cape as the realization washed over him. _Oh_. “Right,” he nodded, stepping further into the room. “Sorry,” the young servant struggled to take deep breaths, willing his heart to _slow down_. Already his paranoia was getting the best of him, and he nearly sputtered out his secret over a mere misunderstanding… he had to be more careful.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Arthur opened his mouth to speak again. “Sometimes, Merlin, I truly wonder why I keep you around,” Before Merlin could attempt a witty response, Arthur disappeared behind the changing screen. He began once more to tidy the room, placing the cape aside and retrieving forgotten objects from the floor. “Luckily for you, training new servants is extremely tedious, hence why my father hasn’t bothered to get a new one.”

A loud clang resounded as Merlin dropped the metal water pitcher he had only just gathered. The rustling from behind the screen stilled. “What was that?” Arthur demanded.

“I… um, I tripped,” Merlin lied lamely. “Sorry,” he apologized again. Arthur’s laughter filled the room, as the rustling persisted once more.

“Merlin, just how much did you have to drink last night?” his tone indicated that he had no intention of waiting for an answer. Merlin quickly finished what he started before Arthur strode out from behind the screen, sporting his breeches and his typical smirk. Arthur chattered on about his excitement to return to training with the knights as Merlin silently helped him dress for the occasion, too immersed in his own thoughts to contribute.

\---

“Alright now,” Arthur directed his knights. “Let’s see which of you have gone loose in my absence, come on!”

The prince led a brutal session. Merlin watched on with great sympathy as he punished the knights for their laziness in his three day absence. “Stamina” training, is what he called it. The men groaned with each task and Merlin could’ve sworn half of them would end up in Gaius’ chambers if Arthur didn’t let up on them. After what seemed like an eternity, he announced the end of the training. “Pair up and spar,” he commanded, pacing over to the equipment behind Merlin.

From where he stood, Merlin could see how the knights slouched behind Arthur’s back, slack with severe exhaustion that they barely managed to mask when the prince spun around again. Needless to say, Merlin knew exactly how they felt. “Merlin, get over here!” _Exactly_. “Grab a shield.”

Sparring with Arthur was never _fun_. The prince was always either in a bad mood or surrounded by the knights, in front of whom he always had to show off. Looking back, however, Merlin decided that his previous spars with Arthur were _exhilarating_ in comparison. Today, Arthur was clearly running high on adrenaline, whereas Merlin was thoroughly exhausted.

Blow after blow to the shield sent vibrations down his arms and through his whole body. Merlin hid his face behind the shield, the pain was causing him to tear up a bit. The oblivious prince taunted him as he always did, frustrated jeers of “Come on!” and “You’re not even trying!” frequently falling from his lips. Merlin’s muscles screamed for him to stop, but the plea never left his lips. Arthur grunted behind the force one particular strike, bringing his sword in a downward motion on the shield. Merlin’s body couldn’t absorb the shock this time; he crumpled under the assault, clutching his only protection for dear life. He whimpered as he instinctively curled into himself and shakily gripped the enormous shield covering his face and most of his body.

Moments after, when Merlin recognized the absence of a sword striking him, he peered over the top of the shield. Arthur’s eyes were wide, incredulous at his manservant’s perceived incompetency. With a heavy sigh and dramatic roll of the eyes, the young soldier stuck his sword in the ground. “Don’t be such a _girl,_ Merlin,” he drawled. He pulled his shield out of his friend’s hands and yanked him up by the elbow.

Merlin hissed as the joint strained against the sudden motion, adding to the discomfort from having his arm twisted behind his back for a good part of the evening. “S-sorry,” he stammered, flustered. As soon as he was sure he could stand on his own, he drew his arm out of Arthur’s grip and fixed his gaze on the ground. For some irrational reason, Merlin was terrified of inciting the prince’s rage. After all, Arthur would _never_ hurt him… right?

“Dismissed!” He yelled to his knights. Merlin snapped to attention at the familiar words that were uttered in a shockingly similar tone and suddenly he wondered just how alike he was to Uther after all.  When Arthur re-fixed his gaze on his manservant, he seemed to have already forgotten the strangeness of their previous situation. Arthur clapped him on the back before walking off in front of him. At one point, he stopped to turn around and grin at Merlin, who forced his best smile in reply. Arthur made no move to continue on, so Merlin jogged to catch up with him and the two set off to the castle.

\---

Rare was the occasion when Arthur did most of the talking, so it would normally be suspicious that Merlin listened wordlessly as he removed the other man’s armor. Arthur, however, didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps it was because he was wrapped up in his own heated account of practice today, as well as a few scattered stories from his travels. Merlin’s story would have topped them all.

“And I _swear_ , I’ve never encountered a group of bandits more stupid-” Arthur’s laugh broke off when a knock on the door interrupted him. Merlin continued to help him into his favorite red tunic. “Come in,” the prince called.

“Sire,” the guard bowed as he entered. Arthur straightened to look at him, now fully dressed in his evening clothes. “The king requests your presence.” Merlin shivered at the mention of him.

Arthur nodded his acknowledgement. “No doubt wants to hear of my travels,” he grinned. Without another look at Merlin, he was following the guard out the open door and down the corridor.

Merlin released a shaky breath. He crossed the room, dropping the armor that he had picked up just a moment ago. The thunderous clang of metal on the hard floor barely registered as Merlin approached the mirror in a trance like state. With trembling hands, he lifted his tunic just enough to reveal the dark purple evidence from last night’s assault forming on his hips. He ghosted his fingertips over the bruises, wincing as even the lightest touch yielded stinging pain. A startled gasp reached his ears, but it took a moment to process that the sound didn’t belong to him. The familiar click of the door confirmed that he wasn’t alone. He turned towards the intruder and was met with the wide, tearful eyes of his dear friend, Gwen.

“Merlin,” she breathed, hardly above a whisper.

Now that he was caught, Merlin knew he couldn’t escape. Still, he struggled to fight the urge to pull his tunic down and deny everything, to run away and never look back. But it was too late, Gwen had seen the nasty bruises, coupled with the fear and regret etched into Merlin’s pale features. There was no way out.

Instead, he fixed his gaze on an unseen object, far behind Gwen and far beyond the wall he faced as she approached and delicately examined him. His chest stuttered with every shaky breath until Gwen finished, straightening before him. He relinquished the tight grip on his tunic, arms falling limp at his sides.

“Merlin, what happened?” she inquired softly.

At her concerned tone, his hands coiled into fists at his sides. He was angry, not at Gwen, no, never at Gwen, but at himself for being careless; for worrying her. At Uther for causing of this mess. At himself again for being unable to prevent it. When he didn’t answer, Gwen persisted, just as gently, but with an added trace of urgency. “Who did this to you?”

Merlin, previously slack with defeat, went rigid at the suggestion of a person responsible. He couldn’t _bear_ to articulate the name, nor the crime, but he couldn’t fathom lying to her face any more than he did every day about his magic.

This was supposed to be his burden for him alone to carry, but now Gwen was involved. Someone who, without meaning to, will look at him with sad eyes and remind him that he’s damaged. Someone who will try to support him, no doubt, but also who will be weighed down by his pain. Once again he mentally berated his lack of caution for dooming his friend to be dragged down with him.

Disconcerted by the lack of a response, Gwen stepped away from her friend, backing towards the door. “I’ll go get Arthur…”

“No!” Merlin snapped, rushing to block her exit. The fear and concern in her expression softened him, he tried to level himself even with the turmoil in his chest, in his _aching_ head. “Gwen,” he pleaded. “You musn’t tell Arthur about this.”

“He would want to know,” Gwen reasoned desperately.

“Well, it’s not up to him, or you, it’s up to me!” The two parties in the room fell silent as the heavy truth of Merlin’s outburst sank in. He himself was shocked at his words, yet he felt no regret towards them.

“Merlin, please,” she begged, her hands wringing nervously in her dress. “He can help, he’s the prince, after all.”

“Oh yeah?” Merlin scoffed. “Well _he’s_ the king!” As soon as the confession was released, Merlin, cursed his lack of tact. Still, he couldn’t take it back. Any of it, including what was already taken from him.

Gwen’s frown deepened. “Uther…he… _he_ was the one that beat you?” Merlin looked away from her sympathetic eyes, his silence confirming her inference. “But that doesn’t make any sense… Uther’s never been known to beat the servants,” she thought aloud. “Uther was cruel in many ways, but he rarely issued beatings himself… what did you do, anyways?”

He shrugged. It was a question he had asked himself numerous times last night into the morning, but he never found a definite answer. Gwen hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve heard talk that after Ygraine’s death he used to… aggressively pursue, other bedmates, but eventually he got his own servant to take care of that. Still, beating someone is rather out of character for him,” she paused, and Merlin tried not to look at her as Gwen talked herself into a place he didn’t want her to go. “It’s a shame really, that he has fallen so ill, I wonder if…” Gwen trailed off, and Merlin closed his eyes. He heard the telltale gasp indicating that Gwen reached the correct conclusion.

Part of what attracted Arthur to Gwen, he had told him, was her smarts, he considered it a good feature, but at present Merlin cursed her deductive abilities. That, and his inability to argue otherwise. “Oh, Merlin…” Gwen whispered. She carefully wrapped her arms around his waist and held her quivering frame against his. For a moment, Merlin remained still before gingerly returning the embrace. Tears silently cascaded down his face, apparently the well had yet to dry. The girl in his arms soaked a patch of the garment with tears of her own. In between sniffles, she spoke. “We must-”

“ _No_ ,” Merlin croaked, breaking the embrace. He seized her by the arms and stared her in the face. “All it will do is cause more problems, you can’t tell anyone,” he sucked in a heavy breath, then released it slowly. “ _Especially_ not Arthur.”

Gwen returned the gaze, staring incredulously into Merlin’s desperate, pleading eyes. “You weren’t even going to tell me,” she realized. “Were you?”

A brief silence. “No,” he admitted. “I didn’t want any else to feel the way that you do now, it isn’t fair to you, to anyone.”

She grabbed his hands from her arms and pulled them in front her, squeezing them. “But Merlin, we’re your _friends_ , we can help you!” she beseeched him.

Oh, how much he wanted to believe her. “No Gwen, you can’t,” he shook his head.

“But, Merlin…”

“Gwen!” he burst, her persistence breaking down his defenses. “ _I_ can’t.” Gwen breathed deeply, then turned away from the intensity of their stare. “Please,” he begged, squeezing back.

She turned back to him, tears threatening to fall once more. “I’m here for you,” she whispered.

Merlin feigned his best smile, and by the choked sob that Gwen let out, he knew that it still needed some work. “I know,” he replied, just as quietly, as if speaking any louder would shatter them both. “Thank you.” Gwen nodded, even as she bit her lip to prevent from crying again. Sighing, Merlin pulled her back into his arms, sucking in painfully as Gwen accidentally brushed against one of his bruised hips in the process. Thankfully, Gwen didn’t seem to notice. The two remained wrapped in one another for quite some time, each hoping that the embrace helped comfort the other more than it did them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the incredibly slow update, I hope I haven't lost you! Happy Easter :)


	4. Delusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen continues to worry, and with good reason. Merlin is not out of the woods yet.

The next day, Merlin avoided Gwen as often as he could. Looking at her only made him feel guilty for dragging her into his mess. He decidedly ignored the fact that she likely felt just as upset each time each time he refused to meet her eyes. Hour by hour the castle was beginning to feel more like the dungeons, Merlin had to frequently stomach being in the same room as Uther for meals and other meetings he was forced to attend as the servant to his rapist’s son. As such, he was elated when Arthur declared that they were going on out on a hunting trip, even though Merlin _loathed_ hunting. He thoughtfully stroked one of Arthur’s horses, who he had only just managed to calm.

Animals are extremely sensitive to the emotions of their caregivers, and with all the times he spent with Arthur’s horses, he found that the past two days have made it difficult to tend to the nervous horses. They sensed every bit of fear and tension within him, so he had to try to relax himself before he could soothe the gentle creature. It was good practice, truthfully, taught him how to keep up appearances to even the most perceptive of animals. Fittingly so, the horse he was grooming huffed and swished its tail when a voice from behind startled Merlin.

“Merlin, are you alright?” Merlin turned around to meet Arthur’s skeptical gaze.

“What?” he asked innocently. Arthur stared at him as he strode over. The young prince had just returned from telling his father that he would be leaving for a hunt, having told Merlin that he needed to pack so that they could leave “sometime today, _Mer_ lin”.

“It’s just that I have never seen you get ready for a hunt so quickly,” he grinned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were excited to go hunting.”

Merlin shrugged dismissively. “Suppose I just appreciate the fresh air,” he began. “I mean, if I’m going to be stuck with you all afternoon, it might as well be someplace a little bit more lively.”

Arthur scoffed as he mounted his horse. “You forget Merlin, that if I decide to kill a particularly chatty servant out there, nobody will be around to stop me.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Prat,” he muttered as he loaded the rest of the supplies and climbed into his saddle himself.

“I heard that,” Merlin grinned to himself as he spurred his horse to catch up to that of the prince. The two trotted past the guards and into the forest.

\---

Gwen peered out the window from Morgana’s chambers as the two men departed. Merlin’s body language seemed to suggest that he was recovering, but Gwen knew better, she saw the truth in every sad smile he offered before completely brushing her off. She sighed audibly, wishing she could talk to someone, or at least get Merlin to, but she had to stay true to her promise.

“Don’t worry, Gwen,” the young maid jumped as her lady’s voice was suddenly so clear next to her ear. “It’s just a hunt, I’m sure Arthur will be fine.”

Morgana laid a hand on her shoulder, turning her around so that she could pull the girl into a proper hug. “Thank you, malady,” Gwen whispered, however wrong Morgana’s assumption was, she would gladly accept the comfort.

When the two parted, Morgana studied her expression. “Is there something else bothering you?” When her “friend” shook her head dismissively, Morgana smiled, knowing full well that she was lying. “Good, now why don’t you get yourself some lunch, hm?”

Gwen nodded graciously and curtsied before departing, finally letting her tears fall freely as she navigated the hall. Morgana took Gwen’s place by the window and frowned as she, too, noticed how Merlin visibly appeared to be recovering. She would have to speak to Morgause later. She resolved that this could not, and would not, last for too long.

\---

To Merlin’s absolute delight, it was a slow hunting day. Arthur of course blamed Merlin, saying the he was making enough noise to scare away a deaf deer. The truth of the matter was, however, that if not for the consistent chatter between the two men, the forest would be completely quiet. Which, in hindsight, really should have aroused suspicion.

“-Really, Merlin, if we don’t catch something soon, we might have to serve “clumsy manservant” tonight.”

“Would I be served with wine?”

Arthur nodded. “Absolutely, probably cooked with it, too.”

The faintest bustle of leaves halted Merlin’s witty reply. “Hear that?” he whispered, turning his head to the direction of the sound. Both men halted their horses.

“Probably a rabbit, better than nothing, I suppose.” Merlin turned to see that Arthur was bending to draw his crossbow from the side of the saddle.  The sound rang through once more, and Merlin looked back just in time to catch of glint of… well, it looked like the sunlight reflecting off metal.

“Arthur…” Merlin cried in warning, not waiting to see how the prince would react. He dug his heels into the side of his horse, urging it forward. He heard a distinct “swish” and then felt an arrow pierce his shoulder. The momentum knocked him off over the side of his horse and into Arthur’s before hitting the ground.

The horse panicked and reared up onto his hind legs- Arthur was barely able to dismount before being thrown off entirely. As Arthur’s steed ran off into the forest, about a dozen men sprang from the bushes and ran towards them. With the threat advancing quickly, Arthur only had a time to spare a concerned glance back at his manservant before drawing his sword and diving into the crowd.

Merlin gasped as he sat up, the pain in his arm making it hard to support his own weight. He scrambled backwards until he could lean his uninjured side on a tree to keep him in a sitting position. From there he watched as Arthur heroically fought off as many as he could. A swift mumble of words and three of the men, one by one fell into Arthur’s sword.

Suddenly, the pain in his shoulder doubled, making Merlin cry out, his head falling back against the tree and eyes squeezing shut. The arrow head was dipped in poison, no doubt, he could feel it in his veins. The sound of the battle seemed to fade into the background as a hand enclosed itself around Merlin’s throat. He was dragged to his feet by a tall, intimidating bald man. The dirty bandit was clearly blind in one eye, but the other leered at him dangerously.

“Let me go,” the servant commanded, grabbing a hold of his captor’s arm. The man responded by shoving him, _hard_ , into the tree, Merlin’s head spun with the collision. Whoever said that you could not feel pain in multiple places at the same time was _wrong_ , oh so very wrong. Still he managed to find his voice. “Let me go… or else.”

The bandit threw his head back in laughter before tightening his grip on the other man’s throat. “Or else _what_?” he replied, watching as he squirmed and desperately dug his nails into his arm. “Such strong words from a pathetic little servant,” he spoke, his tone condescending and full of authority. This guy was in charge. Merlin closed his eyes, wishing his attacker would just _kill_ him already, before the poison would have a chance to slowly spread.

But then the man was whispering some terms of mock endearment, and when he re-opened his eyes, the man was older and was sporting a golden crown, the all too familiar face grinning. He began thrashing about, having long forgotten about his plan to make a tree branch fall onto his assailant. All he could make sense of was one thought: _No! Not again._

His throat was closing on him, although he was not sure if it was because he was being strangled or that he simply could not remember how to breathe. “Please, no,” Merlin whimpered. But the bandit was relentless, he was now gripping the arrow with his other hand and twisting it deeper into his shoulder. “Stop!” he screamed desperately. “ _Sire_ , please!”

To his surprise, the man listened, the hold on his neck loosened and finally disappeared completely. When he looked up, Arthur was before him, pulling his sword out of the bandit’s back. His knees suddenly weak, Merlin fell to the ground, thankfully landing on his opposite shoulder. He was acutely aware of the feeling of dried tears on his face, but did not want to call any attention to his red, puffy eyes by wiping at them, he could only fight to hold back the new ones that threatened to spill over.

“Merlin!” Arthur dropped beside him and quickly assessed the damage. He lifted his torso so that he could get a better look at his impaled shoulder.

“Well I spared the kitchen some trouble,” Merlin smiled, watching as the prince looked down at his face. He was relieved, and clearly a little bit confused. “I’m already skewered.”

Unamused, Arthur frowned. “That’s not funny, Merlin,” he closed his hand around the arrow.

“And seasoned,” the injured manservant added.

Arthur froze, his grip on the arrow tightening involuntarily. “Poison?”

“You’re smarter than you look.” Merlin chided breathlessly.

Shaking his head, the prince muttered an apology before pulling the arrow out through the path it entered. Merlin groaned, the pain strong and yet numb all at once. Still, it was enough to knock him out without resistance. Arthur removed the other man’s scarf and barely looked twice at the yellow marks on his neck that seemed far too faded for him only just being struggled. His mind more preoccupied with saving his manservant’s life- he had to act quickly- he unconsciously dismissed them as a consequence of the poison as he fastened the scarf tightly around Merlin’s wound.

Since his horse was now likely long gone from their position, Arthur lifted Merlin from the ground and draped him over the front of the servant's horse. He stopped himself from throwing away the arrow, knowing from experience that it could save his friend just as easily as it could kill him. Urgently, he mounted the horse and cantered off towards Camelot.

\---

Arthur yelled to the guards as he galloped into the courtyard. They came running over to him, two of them taking Merlin off the horse and carrying him up the main steps. After dismounting, Arthur ran up behind them and followed them to Gaius’s chambers, the arrow clenched tightly in his fist.

The guards burst through the door, startling the poor old man. His expression faltered when he saw his ward’s condition, but by time Arthur strode in, he had regained his composure and was directing the guards to lay him down. Arthur presented the arrow to physician. “He was poisoned, Gaius.”

Gaius lifted the object to his face and briefly sniffed the arrowhead. “Indeed,” he agreed.

“He saved my life,” _Again._ Arthur continued. “You have to help him.”

Both of the men’s eyes fell to Merlin. Gaius paced over to him and crouched to look him over. “The good news is that I know how to treat it,” he said, standing. Arthur fixed him with a hopeful gaze, silently asking him to end the sentence there. “But, the poison has likely spread by now, so we don’t have much time.”

“Anything you need.”

The chamber doors were thrown open and Gwen appeared in the entryway.

“Gaius! Something’s wrong, I heard-” Arthur ran over to her and cut her off from getting much further into the room. She appeared confused at first, until she looked over his shoulder to see her friend looking deathly pale on the bed. “Oh my- it’s true, _Merlin!_ ” She lunged forward to try and get to his side, but Arthur stopped her again.

“Gwen listen to me,” Arthur pleaded. Gwen ceased her struggling and complied, her eyes threatening to leak tears.  “He’s going to be fine, but only if we help Gaius.” Gwen studied him before finally nodding, and Arthur released his hold.

The two turned to the physician expectantly. “I need water to keep his fever down while I mix up the antidote.” Arthur smiled sadly at Gwen and squeezed her hand encouragingly before leaving the room to get the water. As Gaius paced over to the table to retrieve some of the mixing supplies, he verbally listed off some of the ingredients he needed. Both fortunately and unfortunately, Gwen had many times been forced to help Gaius with some of the injured and sick that came into his chambers, Arthur and Merlin oddly being the two most frequent visitors, so she happened to know where Gaius kept most of his supplies.

Before long, Arthur had returned with a bucket of water, and Gaius was now at work mixing up the ingredients. Gwen took a seat by the bed and began dabbing a wet cloth on Merlin’s brow. Arthur sat on a stool across the bed from her, his elbows propped up on his knees and chin tucked neatly into his folded hands. Most of his focus was on the injured servant, but Gwen’s nervous movements made him shift his attention to her now and again. He watched as she wrung out the wet cloth over the bucket and dunked it back in at least two times more than she needed to, her hands shaking all the while.

“Guinevere,” he called, as if she were much further away than across the bed. On hearing her name, Gwen stopped. She turned to him with a look that he never liked to see from the young maid, as if something was weighing her down, adding to the issue at hand. He had seen it for the entire year that Morgana was missing, and anytime he was about to go off with the knights since they had discovered their feelings for each other. It was impossible to ignore, but now was not the time to address it. “He will be alright soon,” he assured her.

Gwen held his gaze for a while before wringing out the cloth once more and turning her attention back to Merlin. Arthur was lying. And he did not even know it. Still, it was not her place, as Merlin’s thin features reminded her, to tell him just how wrong he was. Just how little his physical condition had to do with Merlin being “alright” again anytime in the near future.

Arthur watched as Gwen declined to respond, perhaps he was not as convincing as he thought, considering he had no idea how quickly or not Merlin would recover from the poison. As if on cue, Gaius came around the table to approach the bedside. Arthur stood out of courtesy to let the aging physician take his place. “Prop him up,” Gaius requested as he graciously took the offered seat.

The prince lifted his friend by the shoulders and supported his head from behind the bed. Finding the position and angle of his arms uncomfortable, he settled down onto the corner of the bed now left unoccupied by Merlin’s head and leaned him up against the side of his chest.

Gently, Gaius opened Merlin’s mouth and slowly poured the serum down his throat. He withdrew when the vial was empty and sat back, waiting for something to happen. The other two parties remained motionless as well, as if sneezing would interfere with the medicine. Before long, Merlin’s breathing had gone from erratic and occasionally absent to steady and even. Merlin shifted uncomfortably against Arthur’s chainmail, though he did not stir. The three laughed away the tension before it could reach its peak, the medicine worked, Merlin was saved just in time.

The group lingered for a while longer, but once it was clear that Merlin was well on the road to recovery, Arthur laid him back down and stood to leave. He told the two that since Merlin was safe, he had to go report the incident, the bodies, and the missing horse in the forest to his father. He missed the way Gwen turned away from him at the mention of Uther.

Gaius resumed his work, but Gwen remained at her friend’s side, her hand resting on his. An hour or so later, a guard entered with a message from the Lady Morgana, he relayed to her that given Merlin’s condition, she need not attend her for dinner that evening. Gaius found this rather suspicious, but Gwen was completely charmed by the warm wishes for Merlin’s health.

Night fell, and Gaius continued to come and go, assuring Gwen each time that she should turn in early, considering Merlin would likely not wake until later tomorrow afternoon, but she would not leave. He left to relate the physician’s report to the king and told Gwen that she had best return to her chambers before he came back. Thankfully, Arthur came to retrieve her long before Gaius had the chance to resume preparations for the night’s deliveries.

\---

Arthur sat down at the dinner table, halting the pleasant conversation Uther was having with Morgana. The meal began and ended without much ceremony, and shortly after Morgana excused herself for the night. The king remained to chat with his son until Gaius entered to share some news, at which point Arthur respectfully left them to talk alone.

Later into the night, while reading over some scrolls in his chambers, Uther heard the serving girl pass his door, quietly hiccupping with sobs. He did not pay it much mind, and simply resumed his studying. However, soon after, he felt a surge of energy run through him, and before he knew it, he was out of the room and walking a familiar path down the corridor. Before long, the destination that his feet carried him towards came into view.

He pushed past the door to the physician’s chambers, not even bothering to knock, he knew that Gaius was out on his rounds to deliver the usual potions to the usual patients, Morgana included. The pale servant, as promised, was asleep on the bed, carefully tucked in everywhere below his shoulders. From what he heard from Gaius, the boy had regained some of his color, but to him, he still appeared shockingly white. The king sat down on the stool beside the bed and quietly studied the servant, watching as his chest rose and fell. For all the pain he had likely been in previously, he now looked serene and peaceful.

Purple bruises on the base of the boy’s neck caught his attention. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the stark contrast the bruises made. How dare someone _else_ lay a hand on this young servant. They were consistent with Arthur’s report of the event, brief as it was. His only comfort was knowing that these particular bruises were the only things that the bandit had managed to replicate on him. Standing from his position, he reached down to lightly close his hand around the boy’s slender column. His hand covered the bruises easily, after all, his hand was larger, commanded far more men, and wielded far more power than that of the dead bandit.

The appearance of the servant beneath his hand brought back fond memories. The only thing missing was the wide, fearful blue eyes egging him on. He briefly considered squeezing to get the young man to open his eyes but he knew that now was neither the time nor place. Any moment, Gaius would be returning from his trip, and Merlin was likely given a sleeping draught to keep him asleep until the pain faded anyways. Instead, Uther smiled, releasing his hold and gently laying his ungloved hand on the soft skin of the manservant’s cheek. Merlin’s peaceful expression faltered and his eyebrows furrowed, but he did not stir. Uther chuckled darkly, brushing Merlin’s lips with his thumb. “Soon, my boy, soon,” he promised. He squeezed his shoulder, the uninjured one, before quietly leaving the room to let Merlin rest.

Unfortunately, however, Merlin was no longer in a dreamless slumber.        

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't honestly expect things to get better, did you? Stay tuned kiddos, my classes are done for the summer and I have more unpleasant ideas.


End file.
